Post-bloodbath. Day One, evening.

CYRUS AUGUSTIN, DISTRICT TWO MALE

As I pull the final sword from the stone, the nearby hovercraft lifts up the last body from the bloodbath and ascends into the sky. Eight gone.

I toss the sword into the pile of weapons we've gathered, and it slides off the top of the heap with a rattle and a clang. Andros nudges the pile halfheartedly, and I assume that he's still moping over the fact that he didn't find a switchblade in the boulder and he'll have to settle for a regular dagger.

Secretly, I'm thrilled that there was a proper mace available. It was my specialty weapon in training at home and what I showed to the Gamemakers in private sessions. It feels like it was meant for me to use. And there are plenty of swords for Caelle and spears for Eliana and Shelby.

Then again, at the moment I'd rather not give Eliana access to any weapons. I saw Mary Sue's body—the girl can do more than enough damage with her bare hands. Sure, I killed too, like I was supposed to, but a quick knife to the back is far less threatening than smashing someone's face in.

A knife to the back. Literally and figuratively. I shake away the memory of stabbing Shark that tingles in my hand. I can't think about that right now. I don't have time to be guilty, not when the Games have started for real. Besides, he was a threat. A threat and a sadist. By killing him quickly, I saved who-knows-how-many people from being tortured to death. That's good, isn't it?

How long will I be able to skate by on that? Especially when, to my allies, I haven't done anything at all in the Games? Caelle killed two, and Eliana… I have to stop dwelling on her episode with Mary Sue.

The bile rises unbidden in my throat. No. Calm down, Cyrus. I can't imagine doing that to anyone else. Is Eliana any better than Shark? When I killed Shark, it hardly felt like killing a person. More like an animal. And yet I still can't shake off the feeling that watching the life leave his body gave me. I feel… haunted.

I can't imagine killing Eliana the same way. Or the other tributes. Like the little boy from Eleven or the girl from Five. They didn't do anything to deserve the pain of the Games. Shark volunteered for this. Eliana, ally though she is, volunteered for this. I volunteered for this, and it's easily the worst decision I've ever made. The others… they were forced into this arena. If I see any of them, I don't think I could bring myself to swing my mace.

"Cyrus, you okay?" Shelby gently touches my shoulder, and I snap out of it. "You're zoning out. Those weapons aren't that interesting, right?"

Her subtle sarcasm still makes me laugh. "Nah, just a bunch of metal. I'm fine. Tired, that's all."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, Caelle wants everyone to gather up. We've been sorting supplies, and she and Andros put their two murder-brains together to come up with some kind of plan."

"Murder brains?" I smirk.

"Just stating facts," Shelby pouts, and I squeeze her hand a little to let her know I'm joking before striding over to the other three members of our group.

"Awesome, all our initial tasks are done!" Caelle chirps, clapping her hands together. There's not even a speck of blood under her nails- how is she so organized and unaffected that she has time for personal grooming? "Cyrus, Andros, how do the weapons look?"

"A lot of extra blades," I say, "so it looks like the Gamemakers were hoping to lure a lot of tributes into the bloodbath. Mostly knives, and then a couple extra swords, spears, battle-axes, and my mace. And then two of these big-ass spear-axe-things."

"They're called halberds, and they're medieval polearms," Caelle corrects me, sounding a little annoyed.

I shrug. "Cool. Halberds."

"The news with the supplies isn't quite as good. What we have here is mostly fluff supplies. Some rope, some matches, whatever. Two sleeping rolls. There's a fair amount of bandages and first aid supplies, even after we patched ourselves up."

"Two sleeping rolls?" I query. "Who gets those?"

Andros points at the stone wall behind Caelle, and for the first time I notice a wooden door in the corner. It's much smaller than the huge double doors on the other side of the courtyard, and I never thought a normal sized door would look so small in comparison. "Check this out. It's not an exit, like we originally were thinking, but it'll be helpful."

He opens the door and we all file in to the small room. It almost looks like a cottage setup- a small fireplace, a few tiny beds that look more like couches, a table. Between the space in here and the sleeping bags, there's a place for everyone to rest.

"What is this?" asks Shelby.

"If the arena is a castle, this looks like it would be a gate house of some sort. Kind of like a guard shack," offers Eliana. She's oddly calm considering what she was doing less than an hour ago.

"I say it's headquarters," Caelle declares, and we all nod. It's not like there's a better option, and no tributes will seek us out here. Perfect. "And, as I was saying earlier, supplies. Here's the problem—there's plenty of water, but no food among the supplies. We're going to have to depend on sponsor gifts to eat, or hope there's another source of food somewhere in the arena."

"Or we're gonna have to make this a quick Games," Andros quips. We all stare at him for a moment. Was that… a joke? A dry, morbid one, but a joke nonetheless?

"Funny coming from you, the one with a guaranteed endless stream of sponsor gifts," Eliana sneers at him.

Okay. Yeah, maybe she really does have problems. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge.

Caelle gives Eliana a stern look that the girl from One ignores. "I'm sure between the five of us, we'll have plenty of food for as long as we need it." As if to prove her point, something hits the grass outside of our little headquarters. We exit the room and go back into the courtyard, finding a parachute attached to a large basket.

"See, look. A picnic!" Shelby excitedly scoops up the parcel and opens it to reveal a stash of fresh bread, cheese, fruit, and nuts. Oh. I hadn't even realized how hungry I am until now.

As we all grab a snack, Andros is the first one to swallow his mouthful of food and speak up. "So who wants to go on the first hunt?"

Hunt? I gulp, trying to make it look like I'm swallowing a bite of apple instead of being afraid. Fuck. I entirely forgot about the concept of hunting. It was all bloodbath and alliance politics… and now we're talking about hunting other tributes.

"Surely we can't talk about it later? The bloodbath was like an hour ago." I plead. I share a look with Shelby and can see she's as reluctant as I am.

"Don't be a baby, Cyrus, we talked about this on the last day of training," Caelle snaps. "We go hunting right away, so nobody has time to get bored. No one will be expecting it, so it's less likely they'll have found hiding places to settle into. Plus, the longer we stay on the offensive, the more in control of the arena we'll be. If the Capitol audience stays entertained, the Gamemakers won't try to mix it up on us. We control the story, we keep ourselves safe."

I know she's right, but it hurts. I don't want to hunt.

"I'll stay here and guard the supplies! I can move them into the gate house or whatever you want," Shelby pipes up, and I curse internally for not being the first to come up with that idea. I'll look scared if I try to tag along on Shelby's plan for getting out of hunting.

"Sounds good," Andros says, "I think I'll stay as well. This leg wound is mostly superficial, but I'd still like to give it a chance to heal."

That leaves me, Eliana, and Caelle to go out on the hunt. Fuck. Fuck.

"All right, grab whatever weapons you want to bring!" Caelle says brightly. I trudge over to pick up my mace.

Eliana grabs a spear and slides a knife into her belt. "Targets?"

"Anyone we can find."

I wince. Personally, I'm hoping we don't run across anyone at all.

"I think we would be smart to keep an eye out for Timo and Althea. Those two were pretty bold during the bloodbath, probably the biggest threats left. Especially since Timo may have been the one to kill Shark."

Caelle nods. "Good, Eliana. All right, let's head out!"

I follow the two girls across the courtyard and through the huge double doors, feeling like the worst person in the world.

MALEK TREVELIAN, DISTRICT SEVEN MALE

"Okay, Inaya, are you ready to let me check it again?"

She nods, wiping the tears away from her eyes, and slowly, painfully, pulls her bloodstained tunic up to her ribs. Once again, I'm grateful that I managed to snag a roll of bandages from the supplies scattered at the bloodbath.

Only a little blood has leaked through the gauze and binding around Inaya's stomach, and I grit my teeth as I try to decide what to do. The first aid station at training heavily emphasized the importance of regularly changing wound dressings, but I don't know how long the bandages will last if I keep putting fresh ones on. This is already the second wrapping, after she completely bled through the first.

But as she breathes, I don't see any more blood seeping through the cloth and gauze. That's good. She must have stopped bleeding, right? I don't really want to have to look at her injury again. The cut, shallow but long, leaving a grinning gash in the skin of her torso. She should probably have stitches, but there's no way she'll get them here. I'm no doctor—it was practically a miracle the wound didn't open her abdominal wall. If I had seen her intestines, I would have puked.

"How's it looking?" my ally asks quietly.

"Well, your guts are still inside you, so looking great!"

Inaya does not find my feeble joke funny.

"Sorry. I think you've stopped bleeding at least. Which means we can leave this set of wrappings on for a while, if that sounds good to you?"

She smiles weakly and nods. "That's a relief at least." She tries to take a deep breath, but winces. "Owwww."

I readjust her tunic. "You okay?"

She looks at me and we make eye contact—she can no longer manage a full smile. "I'm really not," she whispers.

I nod. "Yeah. Yeah, that's fair," I respond, trying to remind myself to talk to her like a friend and not like she's one of my younger siblings.

"Thank you again for helping me."

"Of course! What was I gonna do, leave you behind? I wouldn't. I—I couldn't do that to you, Inaya." And it helps that her wound isn't as bad as I originally thought it was. After a little while, she's started to calm down. At first I really thought she was dying.

"But still, thank you." The insistence in her voice stops me from brushing it off again. Then I remember Rhea.

Right. Inaya and I are all that the other has left. I look at her closely. Of course she's not okay. She lost the person she's been talking to since the first day here, and got sliced up herself.

I keep pushing the image of Rhea walking off her plate out of my head, pretending it didn't happen. I was looking right at her when she did it, too, but I closed my eyes for the explosion. What really is sticking in my head, replaying on a shitty loop, is Inaya's scream.

When I look into her eyes, I can see that she's reliving the same moment. Her tears well up again, and she sits up abruptly to throw her arms around my neck as she sobs.

"Whoa! Whoa! Watch your cut, we don't want it to start bleeding again!" I cradle her as gently as I can, trying to lean her back so she doesn't curl up around her belly.

With Inaya's injury taken care of for the moment, we have time and energy to start thinking of Rhea again. The reality is sinking in.

She died. She blew herself up right in front of all of us.

For a second, I kind of hate Rhea for doing that to us. To Inaya especially. She was right beside her. Why would she do that? To her ally? Wouldn't she realize how much it could fuck someone up?

And what does it say about me that I'm not as torn up about it as Inaya? True, I didn't know Rhea for as long, but she was still my ally. Does it make me fucked up that I'm not grieving? I was sadder when my friends at home abandoned me. To be fair, that was something personal and this… is the Hunger Games. But this is death I'm talking about, not petty drama. I don't know. I just don't know why I'm feeling this way.

Inaya's cries fade to whimpers. It's a familiar cycle at this point- the pain or the memory brings tears, full blown sobbing aggravates the wound, which forces her to stop crying, and then it happens again.

I can't bring myself to be upset with her for it. It's not her fault. She can't control the pain or Rhea's death.

I help her sit up slowly and rest her back against the stone wall of the tiny, bare room we're huddled in. "Talk to me?" I don't expect her to unload her feelings about Rhea or talk through being injured or the heavy stuff or anything like that, but the more I can distract her the better.

"I'm sorry. I just don't handle pain well," she says.

"You don't have to apologize for that. I wouldn't expect you to 'take this well' anyway. It's the damn Games."

She sighs. "I guess you're right. If it were easy to handle, the Capitol wouldn't have come up with it."

"I wish this was easy. Could you imagine? Waking up on Reaping Day and not being terrified of being chosen?"

"Bet that's what it's like to be a Career." I'm relieved to hear a little bit of an edge to her voice again. We don't have any painkillers but maybe she's getting accustomed to the injury. Or just running out of tears to cry.

"Must be nice to not feel any fear, right? Look at me, I'm big mean robot man!"

Inaya giggles. "Okay, Andros, calm down!"

I laugh for real at that. Then, the sound of footsteps. I cover Inaya's mouth with my hand and snap my attention towards the door.

"This place feels like a maze. I hate it already."

"Ugh. I wish it was all outdoors. It's so much easier to look for people when there aren't so many nooks and crannies." Sounds like the girls from One and Two, at least.

A shadow stops right outside the door. Inaya's breath hitches and I bite my lip, hoping that she doesn't move or squeak.

The doorknob rattles and my muscles tense up. What will I do when the door opens? Make a run for it? Try and hold it shut? Stand and fight?

"Have we tried this door already?" That's a guy's voice. There's three of them so far.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Come on, let's go to the stairs!"

The shadows retreat from the door and the footsteps grow distant. Still, I don't move until my heart starts beating at a normal pace again.

Inaya pushes my hand away from her mouth. "That was a close one."

"Too close for comfort."

"Should we move?"

I shake my head. "Too much of a risk we'll run into them somewhere else. Maybe overnight or in the morning, but as long as they're out there I don't want to try and move you. Best to try and recover a bit here."

"Okay, good. That's what I was hoping you'd say."

KEPLER MALLIS, DISTRICT FIVE MALE

"Come on! Kepler, listen to me!" Calandra shakes me, but I push her away. Her hands on my back feel too much like Aviva's as she tried to force a knife into my back. I curl up around my hand, protecting my hurt fingers from any attempt to touch them.

"Kepler, please, you're acting like a feral dog!" Redmond finally snaps.

"We aren't going to hurt you!" Calandra grabs my face and forces me to hold still and look her in the eye.

Her touch is nothing like Aviva's. Her eyes are kind and worried; her hands are caring, not threatening.

I let go of something deep inside me, and my body relaxes onto the cold stone floor.

"There we go, buddy. There we go. It's okay. You're okay."

I'm supposed to be able to trust these two. I'm supposed to be able to have some degree of safety with them.

"Can I see your hand, Kepler?" Calandra asks. I grit my teeth and hold my hand out to her, feeling exactly like a stray dog with a thorn in its paw. Redmond's simile was more apt than I'd like it to be.

She inhales sharply, cringing at the sight of my bent and swollen fingers. Taking my wrist gingerly, she turns my hand and examines it. "Redmond, do you think we could reset these? I know we've both seen kids with broken fingers and wrists from falling out of trees."

He wrinkles his nose. Distaste, probably. I don't blame him. "Probably. Not well, but better than it is now at least. I wouldn't count on bending the fingers again for a while."

I know enough about first aid to know this is going to hurt probably just as much as it did when Aviva broke my fingers in the first place. "Just do it. Just do it. I'll be fine, just get it done fast."

"You might want to close your eyes for this, Kepler," Calandra advises, and I take her suggestion quickly. My heart pounds frantically, and I twitch as Calandra firmly grasps my wrist and palm. "Redmond?"

"Should I count down?"

"Please don't," I beg. I blink my eyes, unable to hold them shut, but squeeze them tight when I see Redmond reaching for my hand.

"Let me just-"

I scream as Redmond tugs on my fingers, and they both drop me in a panic.

"You have to be quieter!" Calandra scolds.

"Give me something to bite down on! Quick!" We don't have any supplies, but Redmond unbuckles my belt and puts the leather strap in my mouth. Calandra takes my arm, and I close my eyes again.

When Redmond yanks on my fingers, something in my hand pops and I try my best to clamp my mouth shut as I scream. The sharp spike of pain fades to something bearable, and I take a deep, shuddering breath. When I open my eyes again, my hand looks human again—swollen, bruised, stiff, but normal.

Calandra and Redmond both look ill. "Thank you," I whisper.

"Can you tell us what happened out there at the bloodbath now?" Calandra asks tentatively.

Aviva.

I gulp, the pain in my hand nearly forgotten thanks to the wave of nausea in my stomach.

Forgive me.

I imagine my father watching the Games, watching me in utter disgust.

"I—I—I—" unable to say anything, my voice catches and stutters.

"It took you awhile to make it to the door," Redmond prompts.

"I—Aviva."

"What happened with Aviva?"

I don't want to tell them. I don't want it to be real. I don't want it to be the truth.

"She attacked me. I had to escape her. I had to. I had to-to-to do it."

They look at each other. I don't know if I'm meant to catch the glance or not, but I notice it anyway.

"Had to do what exactly, Kepler? Is she the one who hurt your hand?"

"Yes. Yes, that was her. She had knives. I—I had to—to fight back."

Calandra's face is grim, almost steely. I've never seen her so serious. "And what happened?"

"I stabbed her."

Neither of them say anything, but they both keep staring at me. Like they want me to say more. What else am I supposed to say? What else must I confess to?

There's no hiding it. I have to come clean. "I killed her. I killed Aviva."

Redmond nods. Calandra just keeps staring at me, her face oddly blank. I can't tell what she's thinking at all, it's like there's nothing there.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, please don't judge me. You can't judge me, it's the Games, it was my only option. I didn't have a choice! I didn't have a choice, I-"

"Hey, calm down. Calm down, it's going to be okay," Calandra sits next to me and strokes my hair as I start violently shaking. It's not cold but my teeth are chattering so hard I can't get any more words out.

"We know you did what you had to do to live, Kepler," Redmond adds, "Anyone would have done the same."

I squeeze my eyes shut again, and tears start leaking out of the corners of my eyes.

How can Calandra say it's going to be okay? How can Redmond calmly say he would have done the same? I'm a murderer. I'm a killer.

Forgive me.

TIMOLEON CABRERA, DISTRICT NINE MALE

"How are you doing?" Gareth asks.

"Honestly, I feel like I'm on high alert. It's like my brain is buzzing."

"Me too. But how's your arm? Has the medicine helped at all?"

I flex my shoulder a little, gauging the pain of the stab wound. "Yeah, it's helped for sure. I'm glad you grabbed that little case of painkillers, it was smart of you."

Gareth smiles. "That makes me happy. That you're feeling better, anyway. Not to brag, but I was feeling pretty smart already."

I grin in return and try to relax by sitting down next to my ally. The room we're in is huge, with an arched ceiling and tall windows in the stone walls that have banners with the seal of Panem draped from every one. On one side of the room a raised circular platform holds several ornate chairs. It looks fancy. Maybe it could be called a great hall. Or a ballroom. I'm not sure, it's a different kind of fancy from the Capitol's high-tech offerings. I certainly haven't seen anything like it in District Nine.

They have the money to build things like this for one event, yet the buses in Nine can't even run on schedule. Pitiful.

"Do you know who all died?" Gareth asks, bringing me back to the present.

"Hm? In the bloodbath?"

"Yeah. Rhea. Sorry. And Aspen, Neon, Everlyn, I think. Those were the ones I saw."

"I don't think I saw anyone else die."

"That's four more then. I hope Shark's one of them."

"Me too, bud. For sure. That would be ideal. I'd like it if they were all Careers." We laugh halfheartedly, but I worry about Inaya. I didn't mean to hurt her, we just collided with each other and I got scared. If she's among the dead today… it might be because of me. I don't know if I'm willing to own up to that yet. I hope she survived. I know Malek found her, so there's a chance she's okay. I don't think I could have hurt her that badly, if I wasn't even trying to.

"Hold on. Do you hear that?" Gareth asks, scanning the large room.

"Hear what?"

I turn around just in time to see the door at the other end of the room opening. I scramble for my knife and crouch into a defensive stance as three of the Careers enter the room.

"We found them!"

Fuck.

Gareth has no weapons. I have one knife against two swords, a spear, a mace, and who knows what else.

There's no way we can fight our way out of this.

"Run!" I yell, and I bolt towards the door in the corner of the room without looking back. I shove it open to find a spiral staircase, and without a second thought I barrel down the stairs. With one hand guiding me around the central pillar, I leap down the stairs, trying not to fall as a I take them two at a time.

The pain from the stab wound in my shoulder builds quickly as I breathe hard, and when I burst through the door at the bottom of the stairs I collapse to the ground, gasping for air. Have we lost them?

I struggle to my feet, grimacing, turning to face the door as Gareth comes through behind me.

No. It's not Gareth. It's the Career girls.

Where'd my ally go? How could I have lost him?

He could be dead already. The Career boy is missing, too. He could have already picked off Gareth and left me to die at the hands of these two.

I have no intention of that. Not today. Not fucking now.

I turn to run again, but I have no clue where I'm going. The stone rooms are lit only by torches mounted along the walls, and I've never been in this part of the castle.

Dammit, we've only been in the arena for a few hours! Why are the Careers chasing me down already?

I clutch my wounded shoulder and try to keep running, but when I hit another stone wall I have to turn and face my pursuers.

"That was a fun little jog," says Eliana wryly.

A jog. Me running for my life is a jog to her. Bastard.

"No need to tease, Eliana," the other one says. Caelle. The same one who already stabbed me once.

"Yeah," I grit my teeth and try to control my ragged breathing, "there's no need to tease!" I lunge forward with my knife, hoping to catch them off guard and break past them back to the stairs, but one of them grabs my tunic and pulls me off balance.

"Nice try, but no."

I stumble back along the wall, but immediately throw myself back at the nearest one. I'm not going down without a fight. Eliana uses her spear to push me away from her, and then there's a shoot of pain in my left side as Caelle swings one of her swords at me from behind.

I can't fight two. Not alone. I groan in pain and slash my knife in wide circles. I just need a way out!

"Whoa!" Eliana jumps back out of the reach of my knife and brandishes her spear. I snarl and charge her. If I can get inside the range of her spear, she'll be at a disadvantage.

A hard grip on my shoulder stops my advance and then a searing pain in my back. No, my belly. No- both.

I look down to see the tip of Caelle's sword protruding from my stomach. Then the pain as she pulls it out of me, far worse than the first stab.

I open my mouth to say something, to scream or curse her or beg or cry, but no sound comes out. I collapse to my knees, and then crumple, barely managing to avoid slamming face-first into the floor.

Eliana and Caelle stand silently for a moment, and then one says something to the other and they begin walking away from me.

I'm barely aware of the blood pouring from my torso, even as it floods the ground and stains my hands, clothes, skin with its warm, sticky touch. The pain disappears. I'm going numb.

At least there's that.

I start laughing as I lie there on the ground. At least I'm going numb! At least I can't feel myself dying!

I laugh as I think of Vaida, my parents, my brother, the community in Nine.

At least it's not as bad as I thought it would be. It doesn't hurt like I was afraid of. At least when they see me dying, I won't look so pitiful. Maybe they won't have to see it at all, with the shitty connection we often have.

At least I tried.

ALTHEA BIACHI, DISTRICT THREE FEMALE

I run my fingers along the line of the cut from Shelby Leone's spear. She barely got me—it's like a cat scratch, honestly—but it still stings. Easier to aggravate this minor wound and focus on the fresh pain than think about the dull ache in my black eye. I can barely see out of my right side, it's so swollen shut.

Another cannon fires, and I jump. A few steps up from me on the spiral staircase, Val swears and covers her face with her hands.

"That's nine now, right?" she mumbles.

"Yeah. Nine dead."

We fall back into an awkward silence, not wanting to acknowledge the elephant in the room. Aviva and Mary Sue both died, against the odds, and now we're stuck together even though we barely know each other.

I guess I'm not really stuck with Val. I could leave if I wanted to, just get up and walk away. But I don't want to leave. I don't want to be alone. I'm scared, as much as I hate to admit it. My hand drifts down to clutch the hilt of the sword I scored from the bloodbath. It's becoming comforting to hold it, to give myself some kind of security. I have a way to defend myself. Val has supplies— some water, a little first aid kit—and I have a weapon. If worst comes to worst, I'd rather have this sword than a bandage.

"It's almost night."

I look out the narrow window into the sky. The sunset is fading into a dark blue sky, and the stars are starting to come out. They're bright, far brighter than I'm used to seeing in the center of District Three. Torchlight flickers in the staircase from the warm lights mounted on the walls. "It sure is. Wonder if-"

Before I can finish, the blaring first notes of the anthem answer my question. Finally, we'll get some fucking answers about where we stand.

Val and I crowd up against the window, looking up at the sky where the seal of Panem is projected against the darkness. The first face to appear is that of my district partner.

"I'm sorry," Val says.

"No big deal. It's old news." I spit back, trying not to care. Neon was annoying and a little bratty, and Alume and Newt treated him like a baby. We all knew he was gonna die.

Surprisingly, I still feel bad for him. I wasn't as prepared to see his picture in the sky as I thought I was.

The next face is Shark Mason, and I whistle. When he's followed by Syko, I cheer silently. Two scary motherfuckers that I'll never have to see again.

After the little girl from Six, I steel myself to see Aviva. Tears prick my eyes as I see her face, huge and distorted, and I blink them back before Val has a chance to see. She had been so kind to me, in a bitchy way. She treated me like an equal and expected me to work hard with her. She didn't handle a Biachi daughter like a piece of porcelain. And I appreciated her for that.

And now she's dead.

I knew she'd have to die for me to win, but so soon? It seems unfair. And I'm left alone with Val. No shade, I just don't know her like Aviva.

Timo goes by, then Rhea, and then Aspen. His face starts to shimmer out before I remember that he's Val's district partner. Guess I should return the sentiment she offered me. To be polite and all.

"Sorry about him."

She shrugs halfheartedly. "No big deal."

Neither of us say anything as Mary Sue's face is the last to appear in the sky.

Val stands up—too fast, too urgent. I recognize the move, it's what I do whenever I want to leave a room without people noticing I'm upset. "We should find somewhere to sleep. The staircase won't cut it all night."

I grab my sword. "Okay, fine. Preferably somewhere with more than one exit, though."

We head further up the staircase and push open a door to find ourselves in the open air on the battlements of the castle, the high walls overlooking the courtyard.

Val stops moving and I almost run into her. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry, it's just—nothing. Sorry."

"You can tell me. We're allies."

She turns to face me, although I can barely see her in the darkness. "Why'd they both have to die?"

And now we're talking about it. "I don't fucking know. I really don't."

"I wish they were here with us."

"Me too."

"This kind of sucks. No offense."

"None taken, I agree." There's no immediate response, so the chat dies down. The silence becomes awkward again. Since when did I start caring about whether or not things were awkward? "It's okay if Aspen is a bigger deal than you let on."

"It's fine. Really."

"But it's also fine if it's not fine, you know? Ugh. Sorry. I'm not good at-"

"It's okay, Althea."

Based on the shakiness in her voice, I know it's not. I can pick out weaknesses like that easily. But I take the hint and change the subject.

"I know you were closer to Mary Sue and I was closer to Aviva, but we still work pretty good together."

"We did do pretty well for ourselves at the bloodbath, huh?"

"Not bad at all, really. And we don't have to chat to be good allies."

Val nods slowly. "I take it neither of us are interested in bonding right now?"

I smirk. "That's a good way to put it. But with nine down already, I like my chances a lot better when we're working together."

"I appreciate that."

"It won't last forever," I warn her.

"I know. But it's nice while it lasts."

Silence falls again, slightly less awkward this time.

16th: Timo Cabrera. Joseph, thank you for your submission.

Jumping right into it! No sweet post-bloodbath break! So I've decided to put deaths at the end of chapters anyway because I am- what's the word?- lazy! However, I'm not going to write individual obits til the end.

Deaths are decided based on plot, realism, development, all of that. Only one can survive, after all. I hope you'll choose to continue reading the story after your tribute dies, but I recognize that's not my decision to make.

Hi y'all! Been a hot minute. I've been protesting, donating time and money, and getting medic training for future actions so. Yeah. Lots happening. Black lives matter and all art is inherently political so I'll make a point of saying BLM (and ACAB) even on FFN. Just like the pandemic, racism is a global issue. Do what you can, where you are, for the sake of your community. If you're interested in finding anti-racist (or abolitionist, or Black creative, or just about anything) resources, feel free to PM me! I'm a researcher by nature, I have (USA centric, alas) information! Also, the world is a lot to handle right now, so take care of yourselves.

Questions!

What's something that makes you happy right now?